


The Calm

by neverminetohold



Series: The Witcher [1]
Category: The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt - Fandom, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Slash, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The calm before the storm...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Calm

"I understand he's a valuable asset in the coming battle," Roche said, voice flat and even through a clenched jaw. "But your reasons and opinion aside, I do not trust him. I will not have him at my back, nor Ves'."  
  
Geralt could hear his heart beating, strong and steady. Not unlike Letho's, who knew enough to keep his distance. "Still think I'm too naïve and trusting?"  
  
He took a step closer. Resting his hand lightly above Roche's hip Geralt felt the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric, how his muscles tensed. He still wore his colors with pride, Temerian stripes, blue and white. He had lost weight though, gone hungry. Giving his rations to Ves or one of his men, no doubt.  
  
Vernon allowed the touch, made one more exception for him. It felt intimate somehow, with Yen and Triss standing not far away. The air was heavy with their perfumes, lilac and gooseberries. Roses. Both underlined by the sting of fresh snow. The next gust of wind dispelled the haze, carrying a whiff of old blood, weapon's oil and leather.  
  
"And here I thought you never listen."  
  
"I do. We just happen to agree to disagree on a lot of things," Geralt answered, distracted like a hound on a trail by Roche's scent. Shaking it off, he added, "Seems to work for us just fine."  
  
Vernon snorted softly, breath fogging the scant space between them. Even without the threat of the Wild Hunt, it was growing colder by the day. Soon, the war between the remnants of the Northern Kingdoms and Nilfgaard would enter its decisive phase. One last push before winter, and Emhyr might dance on all of their graves.  
  
"So it does. You will have to show me how well after battle," Roche said. By his standards, that counted as a titillating invitation. "And if either Yennefer or Triss decide to murder me in my sleep, I expect the same enthusiasm you display between the sheets in my defense."  
  
Geralt would rather face a pack of archgriffins than these particular sorceresses, but he was smart enough to keep that to himself. Not that Vernon didn't see right through him, judging by the sharp edge of his smirk.  
  
"Looking forward to it." He dug his fingers in with more force than he had meant to, enough to bruise. But Roche did not flinch, never had. "Be safe."  
  
"You as well, Witcher."


End file.
